


Two Ghosts

by bycosmicdesign



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, But then also not canon..., Canon Compliant, Elite S2, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, like half and half, like so much angst I'm sorry, lots of inner dialogue, missing scenes that should have happened instead of the shitshow we got, multi-part/multi-chapter, slow burn and slow updates i'm sorryyyyy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:16:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26198464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bycosmicdesign/pseuds/bycosmicdesign
Summary: We’re just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me.When Omar begins to doubt their relationship, Ander has to decide if holding onto Polo’s secret is worth losing Omar over.A semi-rewrite for final episode of season two, beginning after Ander passes out in the club.
Relationships: Ander Muñoz/Omar Shana
Comments: 51
Kudos: 271





	1. Part One: Duty is the Death of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Title and summary quote taken from the song “Two Ghosts” by the lovely Harry Styles. This story will be split into two parts, each with their own chapters.
> 
>   
> _Part One: Duty is the Death of Love_  
>  _Part Two: Love is the Death of Duty_  
> 
> 
> Titles for part one and two are from the final season of Game of Thrones. I really like this quote and thought Ander could relate to it a lot; Ander's "duty" being his loyalty to Polo.

### Chapter One

Omar sat on the bathroom floor of the club, slowly rubbing at Ander’s back while the alcohol made its way back up. He can still feel the drying tracks from the tears that stained his cheeks, his mind replaying over and over again the moment Ander collapsed on the dance floor. He was only out for a few seconds, but it was long enough.

Omar was terrified. And he was angry, at himself and at Ander. He had noticed Ander drinking more lately along with his mood swings but was too afraid to say anything, not wanting to set Ander off. 

As of lately, it seemed like everything Omar did set him off. It was exhausting. So he didn’t say anything, and now look at what happened. Ander drank himself stupid right in front of his face, their friends, his coworkers. Omar was humiliated. Was Ander really so unhappy? Omar felt the familiar prickling in the back of his eyes and blinked hard to fight back the incoming tears. 

Ander seemed to be done emptying his stomach and leaned back towards the opposite wall, his legs still half tangled around the toilet. Omar sat up and handed him an open water bottle, Ander lazily grabbing it from him and taking a few sloppy gulps, water running down the corners of his mouth. Omar turned around and reached behind him, grabbing some toilet paper and then leaned over to wipe Ander’s mouth. Ander weakly tried to shoo his hand away but Omar ignored him. Once he disposed of the soiled paper, he gently grabbed ahold of Ander’s face with one hand, cupping his chin and tilting it slightly so he was looking straight at him. Omar searched his face for any sort of understanding, remorse, or reasoning, but found nothing. Ander could barely keep his eyes open.

“What’s wrong with you, Ander? Please.”

Ander moved his head weakly side-to-side, trying to free himself from Omar’s grip but Omar scooted even closer. He reached up and pushed back the sweaty curls off his forehead, giving him a small wave of relief and sympathy as Ander hummed and leaned into his touch, rather than pulling away. 

Omar felt his pant pocket vibrate and called out to Guzman, who had been sitting outside the stall door. Guzman gently opened the door and the two shared a concerned look. 

“Azucena’s here. Help me get him up please.”

Ander was practically dead weight at this point and Omar was incredibly grateful for Guzman’s help getting him up and out of the club. 

“Fucking hell Ander,” Guzman exhaled, “how much did you drink? I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Omar felt even more ashamed. He was clearly the additional part of the equation. 

They made their way to the back entrance of the club where Azucena was waiting in the car. She jumped up as soon as she heard the back door open and ran over to where her son was practically being dragged out. Omar could see a mix of fear and disappointment in her eyes as she grabbed ahold of Ander’s face and called out his name. The fresh air must have helped a bit because Ander seemed a little more awake now, his weight a little lighter on Omar’s shoulder. 

Omar and Guzman awkwardly walked him to the back seat of the car, carefully laying him down on his side. Guzman quickly made his way to the other side of the car, settling in the seat next to Ander’s head and rubbing his back.

“Omar, sweetie, are you sure you have to stay? I’m sure your boss would understand if you wanted to leave early.”

Omar let out a sigh. She’s right, his boss probably would let him leave if he asked. But Omar doesn’t know if he wants to be around Ander at the moment. He just needs some time alone to clear his head. He gives her a sad smile, not sure what to say. He doesn’t want to lie to her. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll watch over him until you get home. Do what you need to do, man.” 

Omar gave Guzman a grateful nod and told Azucena he would be home as soon as he could. She squeezed his hand and thanked him and made her way back to the car. Omar watched them leave and then sat down on the steps of the back door, burying his face in his hands and allowing himself a moment to break down. 

Between Samuel’s disappearance and Ander’s behavior, Omar was exhausted. Two of the most important people in his life were in pain, which caused Omar immense pain in return. Not to mention the stressful toll it was having on Omar to not have any answers about neither Samuel’s physical disappearance, nor Ander’s emotional disappearance. He felt helpless, he just wanted his two best friends back.

Wiping the remaining tears from his eyes, Omar headed back inside to finish up his shift, hoping the bustle of the club will distract him before he truly breaks down. He allows for the techno beats to fill his head, pushing out all other thoughts as he tries his best to busy himself behind the bar and forget about his troubles for a moment. That is until Jose, one of the other bartenders, grabs him by the shoulder as he passes by. 

“Omar, what are you still doing here? I thought you left with your boyfriend, is he okay?” 

With a sigh, Omar turns towards the dance floor and opens his mouth to speak but can no longer find words, the memory of seeing Ander hit the floor suddenly assaulting his vision. Jose gives his shoulder a firm shake to snap him back to reality.

“Go home Omar, we’re fine here. We got it under control. Go.”

Omar nods and is out the door before Jose can say another word. The frigid December air hits Omar in the face like a train, but he can’t stop his feet from moving. He wanted to run away from the club but he couldn’t do that either. So he just walked and walked as far away as he could. 

Omar isn’t sure where things went wrong with Ander. Before he had moved in, they had that incredible night at the club. Omar had finally built up the courage to stand up to his father and to fight for Ander. For them. Ander had always been open with him too, so for him to be hiding something from Omar, it had to be something big. Something he was ashamed of. He knew Ander wouldn’t keep something from him without a good reason. So giving him the benefit of the doubt, Omar kept waiting patiently for Ander to finally talk. But it’s been months now. He wants to be with Ander more than anything, but not if Ander can’t open up and talk to him. That was a deal-breaker. 

The painful numbing of his toes finally prompted him to call a cab and go home. He took solace in knowing that it was very unlikely Ander would be awake as he walked up the steps to the front door and slid his key in. Omar instantly heard Azucena and Guzman’s hushed voices from the living room. They both fell silent and turned as he walked into the room, Guzman giving him a nod and Azucena a soft smile-- one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. He didn’t really want to talk, he’d rather go straight upstairs and go to bed, but he knew that wasn’t an option right now, not with the looks they were giving him. He took a seat next to Azucena and allowed her to grab his hand, squeezing back tightly.

“Omar, what happened?”

Although Omar is certain Guzman already told her what happened, probably more than once, he knew she was just trying to make sense of it all. _‘Aren’t we all?’_ he thought to himself.

He recounted what he saw, how Ander was acting at the club, the way he would just grab a drink off a table with no regard to whom it belonged to. Ander did seem happy though, one of his better moods than usual. He seemed light and carefree as he pranced around the whole room, talking to strangers as if he’s known them for years. Which should have been a huge red flag, but the club had been busy and Omar had been slammed with customers. He had noticed and knew it was strange, but he didn’t keep a close enough eye on him. Part of him felt guilty, but another part of him yelled out that Ander wasn’t a child-- he was his boyfriend. He shouldn’t have to be watching over his every move, especially when his friends were right there with him, and certainly not while he’s working.

“He’s been really out of character lately, did the two of you get into a fight or something?”

Omar glared at Guzman’s accusation. He knows Omar is just as confused as they are. The two eyed him expectantly, waiting for a response. 

Omar scoffed, “Well if we did, that would have been news to me…” he countered.

Omar no longer had the energy to be interrogated, so he stood up and excused himself with a kiss on Azucena’s cheek, promising her they would talk more in the morning. 

Omar tip-toed his way up the stairs to his and Ander’s room, slowly turning the door knob. As he allowed his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, he was able to make out Ander’s motionless body sprawled out on the bed. Omar slowly undressed down to just his underwear and grabbed a tee shirt from the dresser before sliding into bed. 

Ander was obviously taking up more than his fair share of the bed, forcing Omar to awkwardly shift around his limbs until he is finally able to get comfortable. Once he closed his eyes though, the image of Ander collapsing replayed in his head on repeat until Omar was forced to open his eyes again. 

He turned his head towards Ander and watched his back rise and fall with his breathing, counting along with each breath, each one an affirmation that Ander was okay. He finally drifts off to sleep, eventually losing count.

***

Omar is woken up by the sound of Ander’s soft snoring. It wasn’t a common occurrence, but he’s certain it’s from the alcohol and how deeply Ander was sleeping. Omar was glad he was getting some good rest finally. He had noticed how often Ander had been tossing and turning most nights lately, the bags under his eyes confirming his suspicions. 

Omar shifted so that he was face to face with a snoring Ander, the morning light illuminating his features. He looked stressed, even in his sleep-- his brow furrowed, his hand clutched in a fist. He’s not entirely sure how long he laid there watching him before finally getting up and heading downstairs.

It was just after 8 a.m. and the house was still silent. Omar sat out on the porch swing and watched the clouds move for a long time. His thoughts wandered again to the night before and the weeks leading up to now. He thought about Ander’s strange behavior and how disconnected he seemed from everyone, not just Omar. If he could just get Ander to open up, to talk to him like he used to, then maybe they can move past this and be them again.

His eyes felt heavy still, he wanted to go back to sleep but knew his mind would probably not allow him any peace. Still, he thought about going inside and watching some tv when he heard the door open. Azucena walked over and handed him a cup of black coffee, she hesitated for a second before taking a seat next to him. They both sat in a comfortable silence as they sip their coffees until Omar finally speaks.

“I think it might be time I find my own place,” he whispers, “I don’t think me being here has been good for us. It’s too much…I’m probably the one making him miserable...”

Omar’s voice breaks just slightly on the last word. The thought alone was heartbreaking enough, but saying it out loud made it hurt that much more. 

Azucena tsks him, placing a firm hand on his knee, forcing him to meet her eyes. 

“Omar, honey, I doubt that’s the truth. I will admit, under normal circumstances, I would have never allowed for you two to move in together at your age. It’s a lot of pressure, even for adults. You know you are always welcome here. But if you think you need to leave, then I think you should talk to him and do what’s best for the both of you.”

Omar nodded and looked back up at the clouds. They sat in silence again for a while longer before Azucena headed back inside to make them something for breakfast. 

As Omar sat there, he made up his mind. He would give Ander one last chance to talk, to explain himself. He doesn’t want to move out, he’s not even sure he’d be able to afford it, but he would do anything to save his relationship with Ander. He just hoped Ander would do the same for him. 

***

After breakfast Omar headed back upstairs to Ander’s room. Ander was still out like a light, but the snoring had stopped for the most part. It was almost 10 a.m. now, Omar decided to hop in the shower and then he would wake Ander. He couldn’t wait much longer, the anxiety was knotting up his stomach. 

Luckily once he dressed again, it didn’t take long before Ander began to stir. He watched him from across the room, biting his fingernails as Ander slowly stretched out his limbs and groaned. Omar had no doubt that he’d be hungover and grabbed some aspirin from the bathroom cabinet.

Ander groaned, bringing a hand up to his face and pressing his palm into his eye socket.

“How are you feeling?” Omar whispered. 

Ander groaned again in response, turning onto his back and bringing his other hand up to his other eye and pressing hard. Omar couldn’t decide if he felt bad for Ander or not. The hangover was his own doing, but the reason why...well, he didn’t know the real reason why yet, but whatever it is must be causing him enough pain to try and drown out his sorrows in alcohol.

“Here, take these,” Omar tossed the bottle of aspirin onto the bed next to Ander. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

Ander finally moved his hands from his face and Omar got a good look at him. He had indentations across his face from the sheets, another confirmation of how hard he was passed out, and his hair was sticking up on one side. The sight was quite humorous actually, considering how put together Ander usually looked. 

“Not really…why? What happened?”

He wasn’t exactly surprised Ander didn’t remember anything, but it still bothered him. Just because he didn’t remember, doesn’t mean he’s not responsible for his actions. Omar took a moment to consider his next words.

“Well, you got trashed and passed out in the middle of the dance floor…”

Omar watched his face carefully for any signs of recollection, but Ander just looked confused. 

“We almost called an ambulance, but you woke up just a few seconds later,” he continued, “you scared the shit out of me, Ander…”

Ander looked ashamed at that, “Shit,” he mumbled. 

“Yeah. I don’t get it, Ander. Why did you drink so much..?”

“Pft, I don’t know, Omar. I was just trying to have a good time, it’s the holidays, right? Do I really need a reason to get drunk?” 

Omar scoffed. He could tell Ander was getting defensive. He felt slightly guilty for trying to have this conversation while Ander was hungover, it didn’t feel fair, but Omar was fed up at this point. He wanted answers. And if Ander made the decision to get shit-faced, well he would have to deal with the consequences. 

“To get that drunk, yes. And not just the one time. You’ve been drinking a lot lately.” 

He watched as Ander rolled his eyes and felt anger building up inside him. He was tired of this shit, of Ander’s attitude and how blasé he was acting while Omar felt like he was drowning.

“Tell me. What the hell is going on with you?”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry so much, Omar.” 

It was Omar’s turn to roll his eyes now.

“Don’t worry? Ander, I saw your body go limp. I held your unconscious head in my hands, terrified that you wouldn’t wake up. And you tell me not to worry? Seriously?”

Omar felt hysteric. He knew if the roles were reversed Ander would be acting just the same, or at least he hoped he would. He began pacing the length of the bed, blinking hard to fight back the tears at the memory, a vision he’s certain he will never forget. He heard Ander shifting on the bed but couldn’t look at him.

“I’m sorry, Omar. I never meant to scare you like that. Forgive me, please.” 

Ander’s voice was so soft, Omar was forced to look at him just to be sure he was actually speaking. He looked like a little kid, small and ashamed. It hurt Omar’s heart to see him look so sad, but it meant that Omar was finally getting through to him. This was his chance to really, really pull whatever was bothering him out. 

Omar took a deep breath, not really sure if he was ready to hear it, but he wanted this to end. He needed Ander, but he needed all of him, not just the little scraps he was willing to throw him.

He sat down on the bed in front of Ander, grabbing his hand and squeezing it firmly. He smiled softly when Ander squeezed it back before getting serious again.

“Only if you tell me what’s been going on.”

Ander looked away and bit his bottom lip. Omar could see the walls being pulled back up and he pleaded once again.

“Please, Ander. I love you. Let me help you.”

“I told you, Omar, it’s nothing.” 

Ander gave him a fake smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. Omar stared back at him and realized Ander would never tell him. He was devastated, he was angry. He slowly pulled his hand away from Ander’s and stood up, knowing exactly what he needed to do.

“Fine. I’m moving out.”

“What? What do you mean you’re moving out?” 

Ander was in panic mode, he could tell. Good. Omar was serious about moving out if Ander couldn’t open up to him, but if he was truly honest, he hoped that if it came to this, just saying it would be enough to provoke Ander into talking to him.

“I’m moving out,” he shrugged. “How can I stay here if you can’t even talk to me, huh? So once I get my paycheck from the club, I’m gone.” 

Omar began to make his way towards the door when he felt Ander pull on his hand. He turned to meet his eyes, still slightly bloodshot from the alcohol from the night before, and shining with emotion.

“Omar, wait...don’t leave like this, please.”

Omar’s heart ached at the desperation in his voice. Getting to live with Ander had felt like a dream at first. They had gone from sneaking around, only seeing each other for ten minutes a day to getting to wake up in each other’s arms every morning. No more looking over their shoulders; no more hushed conversations and kisses that end too soon in back corners; no more two minute warning alarms being set on Ander’s phone. Just them, being together, taking their time. 

Except they weren’t them. 

Almost immediately after Omar had moved in Ander suddenly became closed off. His body language became stiff, he would barely look Omar in the eye and when he did it wasn’t for long. Their sex life was practically non-existent —that was a big indicator that something was wrong, since before they couldn’t get enough of each other— but now he moved away from Omar’s touch, not every time, but often enough. 

They would sometimes cuddle at night, but even when they would be pressed right against each other, Omar felt so far away from him. Some nights Ander would just loosely lay his arm across Omar’s back, but other nights he’d clutch onto him so tightly that Omar thought that Ander was afraid he would disappear in the middle of the night. Those were really the only times when Omar felt Ander’s love these days. 

It was like Ander’s mind was on another planet. And what’s worse was that he didn’t trust Omar enough to tell him why, or even try to explain. 

_‘It’ll pass, trust me’_ he’d told Omar one morning. Omar shook his head at the memory. It had been weeks and Ander never changed. 

Sometimes late at night when Omar couldn’t sleep, his mind would wander and think of all the reasons why Ander might not want him anymore. Could it be that Ander had just liked the rush of their secret affair whenever Omar was still living under his father's strict rules? 

Omar remembered the rush well, the adrenaline that would course through them every day that summer when his father would leave for the bank and Ander would sneak in. Roaming hands over too much clothes and muffled moans in dark corners of the supply room, the possibility of being caught at any moment. It was never enough, they were addicted to one another. Although his adrenaline was also driven by legitimate fear, whereas Ander didn’t really have that same fear. It wasn’t his family that would disown him. 

Was that what drew Ander to him? Was Ander that kind of person who seeked thrill but got bored easily? 

He supposed he couldn’t know for sure. He thinks he knows Ander well, but there’s a voice in the back of his mind reminding him that they haven’t known each other for that long, that they come from different social classes, different religions, that they were raised differently. 

But then he would remember how Ander would pursue him, even after Omar had pushed him away. How he had made up that fake account so that Omar would meet him at that winery. He told Omar then that he wanted to be with him. His face so fucking pure and sincere that it turned Omar to complete mush. He was putty in Ander’s hands from that point on. 

He also remembers the passion Ander would give him, the way Ander would look at him. How he told him he loved him for the first time in the very bed where Omar now feels like an unwelcome guest. But that passion that showed through his eyes, his lips, the way he touched him-- it no longer existed. Or if it did, Ander didn’t allow it to surface anymore.

So now Omar finally decided he was done. Unless Ander changed, he would move out. Omar’s heart ached to see him like this, but he needed answers. He couldn’t watch Ander self-destruct like this and not even know why or how to help him.

 _‘Tell me, tell me, tell me’_ he begged with his eyes, _‘just give me something and I’ll stay.’_

Ander just looked down instead, silent; and in the stillness of the room, Omar swears he can hear a piece of his own heart break, just a little more as he pulled away his hand and walked out the door.

***

They had avoided each other most of the day. After leaving the room, Omar ran outside and grabbed his bike, riding aimlessly until his thighs were sore and the sun began to set and he had no choice but to turn back.

He had successfully avoided going upstairs all evening. Azucena kept giving him a sideways look but never said a word as to why Omar was down there by himself, or why Ander hadn’t come downstairs all day. He appreciated the fact that she never inserted herself into their problems or relationship, she just let them figure things out on their own, which had been working just fine up until this point. However, if he were being honest, he could really use her motherly advice right about now. But even though Omar thought of her as his second mother, she wasn’t. She was Ander’s mother. And Omar couldn’t bear to put her in any position that would make her feel uncomfortable, it wasn’t fair to her or to Ander. So he kept to himself, pretending to watch tv or read a book until she finally sat down next to him.

“So, I take it you two talked?”

He desperately wanted her to wrap him in his arms and hold him, tell him that everything would be okay. Instead, he pursed his lips into a tight line, as if to seal them from blurting out all his frustrations and hurt, and simply nodded. 

She softly rubbed his back, but just before she could speak again, they heard footsteps slowly making their way down the stairs. They both turned their heads towards the staircase to see Ander as he hesitated to take the last remaining steps. He looked between Omar and his mother before quickly averting his gaze and continuing towards the kitchen. 

With one last pat on the back, Azucena stood up and excused herself from the room, leaving Omar and Ander alone for the first time since that morning. 

Omar kept his back towards Ander, not wanting him to see just how affected he was by their conversation. He still hoped that he had scared Ander enough into talking. He heard Ander shuffling around in the kitchen for a minute and then there was silence. 

“Omar?” he whispered.

A wave of relief washed over him. He slowly turned his head and waited for him to continue. But instead he was met with more silence as Ander stared down at the floor. Every second of silence that passed made Omar even more angry. 

Disappointment set in once again, and with an exaggerated sigh, he turned his back towards Ander so as to not let him see the angry tears that threatened to spill over. The sound of Ander’s footsteps going back up the stairs felt like the final nails in the coffin of their relationship.

***

Later that night, they both got ready for bed in silence. Ander had laid down on his side of the bed, getting himself situated when Omar grabbed his own pillow and headed for the door. Ander sat up quickly, watching Omar’s every move. 

“Where are you going?” 

Omar could hear the panic in his voice that made him stop in his tracks. His heart beat threatening to jump out of his throat.

“Couch.”

“…W-why?”

Omar sighed. Honestly he didn’t even know if they were broken up now or not. He didn’t know if he _wanted_ to be broken up now or not. He was just tired of sleeping next to a stranger in Ander’s skin. 

He needed space. He didn’t know what else to say or how else to say it. Ander knew why he was upset and knew exactly what he needed to do to fix it. 

He turned to face Ander, his brow raised with irritation and expectancy, giving him the opportunity to say something. When it was clear he wasn’t going to crack, Omar rolled his eyes and walked out of the room without another word, leaving Ander alone in his bed. 

***


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The truth is, he doesn’t have the energy anymore to fake it half the time. And after the stunt he pulled the other night at the club, getting blackout drunk and fainting, he certainly was not a contender for Boyfriend_ or _Son of the Year._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have been waiting patiently for this chapter! Hope you like it.

### Chapter Two

Ander sat there staring at his bedroom door where Omar had just walked out and felt nauseous from what just happened. Omar couldn’t even stand to sleep in the same bed as him anymore. Even though Ander had been slowly pushing him away for months, he didn’t think Omar would react like this. 

He doesn’t know how things got to this point. Well, he supposed he does. But he certainly doesn’t know how to fix them. 

How do you fix one of your best friends murdering your other best friend's sister? How do you fix months of lying to your lover, your family, your best friend? He felt utterly and completely helpless; and even more so, he’s not sure he even deserves the chance to fix things. His aching heart pounding in his chest— the proof that he can still feel something— makes him think that maybe this time, he went too far. He pushed too far, and it might just cost him Omar.

He laid in bed staring at the ceiling for hours. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was Omar; sweet and beautiful Omar with tears in his eyes, full of disappointment that quickly turns to anger. And he sees Guzman, eyes piercing through his soul as he asks Ander point blank if Polo did it. He even sees Polo, floating face down in the pool, trying to take his own life at the thought of Guzman finding out what he did. 

Frustrated and exhausted, Ander got out of bed and searched the drawer where he used to keep his stash. He doesn’t smoke weed much anymore, but he keeps a joint or two around for special occasions or emergencies. 

He inhales deeply, closing his eyes and letting the smoke fill him up. He doesn’t even care at this point to go over to the window to blow out the smoke, even though he knows his mom would kill him if she caught him with it again. He just tries to focus on his breathing and let the THC take over his mind, erasing the thoughts in his head and finally bringing him just enough peace to be able to fall asleep before the sun rises.

***

Ander woke up to the sound of drawers opening and closing from across the room. He blinked his heavy eyes open, trying to ignore the splitting headache and rolled onto his back, sitting up on one of his elbows. It takes a moment for his vision to stop blurring and he watches as Omar rummages through one of the drawers he keeps his things in.

“Hey,” Ander calls out softly. 

His voice is thick and horse from the smoke from the night before. His head feels heavy and fuzzy, but he wants to talk to Omar. He needs to know how angry he is with him; what this all means.

Omar continued shifting things around in the drawer until he pulled out the navy sweater he was looking for and softly shut the drawer. He slowly turned towards Ander and stared at him, his arms coming together to cross on his chest as he leaned back against the dresser. His face was unreadable.

“You look like shit,” he finally says.

Which, fair. Ander feels like shit, so he can only imagine what he looks like. He blinks slowly, trying to decode Omar’s words and took a moment to really look at him. His eyes are swollen, from crying Ander is certain, and there’s bags under his eyes as well from lack of sleep. His hair is lying almost flat, meaning he hasn’t bothered to style it. He also noticed two mismatched socks peeking up from his sneakers, which was very un-Omar-like. 

“So do you...” Ander teases back cautiously, sitting up slowly and trying to gauge Omar’s mood. 

He saw the corner of Omar’s mouth twitch slightly with a grin, and then dissolve just as quickly. They sit in awkward silence for a moment, neither knowing what to say. Ander wants to ask, but Omar breaks the tension first. 

“I’m heading out to meet Nadia. She’s helping me look for a place.” 

Ander felt his stomach knot uncomfortably and his pulse pick up. He didn’t realize how serious Omar was about moving out. How badly he wanted out. All because of Ander and how terrible of a boyfriend he is. As much as he wants to beg and plead for him to stay, he knows he deserves this, and Omar deserves so much better. His tongue feels heavy, too heavy to speak. He finally manages to nod in acknowledgement. _Coward,_ his mind screams at him.

He looks anywhere but at Omar. He can’t take the look of disappointment on his face anymore. He can feel Omar’s heavy gaze on him but only looks up as he hears his footsteps come across the room and stop just past the bed.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back...”

Ander nods again, his throat feeling even more dry. He wants to say something, anything. He can sense the expectancy in Omar’s linger, but can’t bring himself to ask if they are okay. Honestly, he doesn’t know if he could take hearing Omar’s response if he were to ask. 

Ander listened as the footsteps slowly faded as Omar made his way down the stairs. Alone again, Ander laid back in bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to blink back the tears that were beginning to form. He pulled the covers over his head and buried his face in his pillow, letting out a long muffled yell, desperate for some kind of release. 

He stays like that for a while, feeling oddly comforted by the shield of covers protecting him from the outside world. He concentrates on the rhythmic throbbing of his head, eventually soothing him back to sleep.

***

Ander is woken this time by a soft knock on his bedroom door and his mother’s voice calling out from the other side.

“Ander, sweetie? I’ve made some lunch, come down whenever you’re ready, okay?”

He finally emerges from underneath the covers, squinting his eyes as the harsh afternoon sun blares down through the windows. His skin suddenly feels too hot as he feels the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead and back from being under all the layers. 

He hadn’t realized how much of the day had already passed, nor how hungry he was. His head still feels foggy and his body sticky from sweat. He jumps into the shower, hoping to wash away the shame and guilt he feels before finally heading downstairs. 

His mother is sitting at the island, slowly picking at her food and immediately pops up when she sees him enter the kitchen, grabbing the pre-made plate she’s fixed up for him already. He murmurs a quick thank you to her as she places the plate in front of him. 

Ander could feel her gaze burning into the top of his head as he ate. He tried to ignore it as she tried (and failed) to start up small talk with him. He can tell she wants to talk about Omar but isn’t sure how to bring it up. After the third comment she makes about the weather, Ander decided he’s had enough. 

“Mama,” he sighs and gives her a pointed look to let her know that he knows she’s just stalling. 

She lets out a defeated huff, placing her fork down on the table and crossing her arms with a determined look. 

“Fine. What’s going on with you? Why was Omar sleeping on the couch last night?” 

His mother isn’t stupid, she knows he and Omar have been having some issues lately. He knows she can tell there’s something wrong with him, no matter how good of an actor (and liar) he thinks he is. 

The truth is, he doesn’t have the energy anymore to fake it half the time. And after the stunt he pulled the other night at the club, getting blackout drunk and fainting, he certainly was not a contender for Boyfriend _or_ Son of the Year. 

There were just too many layers to why he was acting the way he was. There was no way to try to explain it to her or Omar without telling them everything. And that was the last thing Ander wanted, was for them to know the truth. How could they possibly love him after knowing he was helping cover for a murderer and is allowing an innocent man to take the fall? 

“I don’t know mama, he just grabbed his pillow and walked out...” he mumbled, pushing the food around the plate with his fork, watching the motion rather than looking up at his mother.

He knew she didn’t believe him, he didn’t need to see her to know that, but he wasn’t going to say anymore. He saw her nod her head out of the corner of his eye, accepting that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Part of him was relieved that she wasn’t going to push, but another part of him longed for the relief it would bring to finally confess everything he knew. He supposed maybe that’s why Polo confided in him, to finally lift some of the pressure off. 

While he could understand the desperation, he would never put this burden on someone else. Especially not someone he loves. Just the mere thought of Polo made him angry these days. He slammed his fork down a little harder than he intended, his appetite completely lost at this point, and dragged his hands up and down his face in frustration.

“Well, you know I don’t mean to pry or anything, I just want to say one thing. Communication is one of the most important things in a relationship, as well as trust. Without those, well, no relationship can survive...” 

Ander was silent, considering her words carefully. When he didn’t respond, she continued. 

“Listen, I know you boys are young and this is both of your first relationships, but take it from someone who has had many. You need to be able to talk through your problems. You can’t just ignore them or bottle them up and hope they go away. You need to confide in one another. Whether it’s something the other did to make you upset or angry, or — or if maybe you don’t feel the same way about him anymore…” she trailed off, her suggestion lingering heavy in the air. 

Ander couldn’t help but scoff at his mother. He already knew everything was his fault and now his mother was accusing him of not loving Omar anymore? He was trying to _protect_ him. And her. Because he loved them both more than anything else in this world and he had sworn to himself he wouldn’t involve anyone else. It was safer this way.

He closed his eyes and began to rub his temples in frustration when his mother reached up and grabbed a hold of his hand firmly, bringing it down to the table and slowly stroking his thumb with hers. He can feel the heat in his face as he attempts to hold back the sudden tears he feels blurring his vision. He wishes he could tell her everything, desperately ask her how he can fix things with Omar and with Guzman. She was right, this was both his and Omar’s first relationship ever. They didn’t know what they were doing, especially Ander. He was on the verge of a complete breakdown and felt more alone than ever. The only person he could possibly talk to about all this was Polo, and he was the last person Ander wanted to talk to.

“I do love him still, mama. I just don’t know what to do. I’ve been such an asshole…he’s going to leave me and I don’t— I don’t even deserve to have him anymore...” 

His voice cracks just slightly as he tries to swallow the lump in his throat. Before a single tear can fall, she is pulling him into an embrace. Ander allows himself to squeeze her back as tightly as he can, pretending for just a moment her embrace could protect him from everything.

***

After Ander had calmed down, his mother busied herself making a pot of tea and Ander wandered out on the patio for some fresh air. He’s always secretly loved his mother’s garden. The garden always reminded him of summer days as a little kid, helping his mother water the plants in the early mornings and picking out which flowers for her to cut and bring inside for decor. She had a way of finding the most beautiful and interesting plants to compliment one another. He smiled fondly at the memory. 

As he walked over to the other end of the garden, his eye caught the vibrant purple shrub, and a new memory popped into his mind: It was their first evening together after Omar had moved in. He had been quiet all throughout dinner, which Ander embarrassingly had barely noticed, his mind too consumed by the conversation he had with Polo at school earlier that morning, mentally counting down the hours until the deadline he had given him to confess. Omar had excused himself momentarily and his mother scolded him for not acting very supportive of his boyfriend who was just kicked out of his house for being himself. Ander remembered feeling ashamed, and not for the last time that night.

When Omar appeared again, Ander suggested they take a walk outside, to which he agreed to with a small smile. They had walked mostly in silence up and down the block, their hands just barely brushing each other, both still not used to the fact that they _could_ hold hands in public. As they walked back to the house, Omar came to a stop at the end of the driveway. Ander had turned back to see why he had stopped and at that moment, he watched Omar’s face as he looked upon his new home with a soft smile on his lips. Ander had reached over and laced their fingers together and led him up to the garden. 

They came to a stop and stared at the flowers for a while in what was left of the evening sun, when he had felt Omar’s hand squeeze his just a little tighter. He had looked over to find Omar was silently crying and Ander immediately pulled him into his arms. It didn’t take long before he heard the muffled sobs coming from where Omar had his head buried in Ander’s chest. 

He had let Omar cry and pour out his heart over the devastation and betrayal he felt by his own family. As Ander listened, he tried to throw himself into Omar’s shoes rather than his own. He felt ashamed thinking he’d rather have Omar’s problems than his own current problems; that Omar’s problems were easier in comparison to what he was dealing with. He remembered coming to the realization that up until the night before, Omar’s problems were his biggest problems. That they had been in this together. He remembered feeling almost envious of the way Omar was able to share his problems and frustrations and talk things out, realizing he would never be able to do the same. Not with this. 

_‘By this time tomorrow, I will no longer have to carry this secret,’_ he had thought to himself, hoping to subdue his own turmoil and focus on Omar. He needed him more right now. 

They had stayed out there in the garden for a little while longer, Omar wrapped up in Ander’s arms while his breathing slowly returned to normal, both of them enjoying the feeling of just holding one another, uninterrupted by alarms or parents or customers. Ander had closed his eyes momentarily, enjoying the light breeze that danced across the patio and the steadiness of Omar against him, breathing him in. It was the most peaceful he had felt in a long time. 

“These are beautiful. What are they?”

“Hm?”

Ander had felt Omar shift just slightly and he opened his eyes to see what he was referring to. 

“These flowers. Do you know what they are?”

Omar had untangled himself from Ander’s embrace to walk a few steps towards a shrub with long purple flowers. While Ander loved the garden, he was terrible with the names of plants. 

“Uhh, I’m not sure. I’d have to ask my mom. I know they attract lots of butterflies though in the springtime and summer. It’s nice, I like those ones too.”

“They’re different, just like us, yeah? I think they are my favorite of the garden.” Omar hummed in response. 

Ander smiled, his heart swelling with fondness. Omar had turned back towards Ander and returned his smile, bringing his hand up to caress Ander’s cheek. It was a small, but intimate gesture that Ander hadn’t realized he needed so badly. He grabbed his hand and led Omar up to his room— _their_ room— and undressed him slowly, kissing every inch of new skin exposed with each layer he removed. He tried to convey his love and support in each of his movements, in every kiss. He wanted Omar to know that he was wanted here. That this was his new home, and that Ander was his family now. 

Afterwards as they had laid in bed together, Ander’s mind betrayed him just as it had the night before, replaying Polo’s words over and over. He had clutched onto Omar, needing to feel his support and feeling guilty yet again that he needed this comfort for himself, that he couldn’t be the strong one for Omar in his time of need. But rather, he needed Omar just as much as Omar needed him, maybe even more. But he could never tell him that, this time was supposed to be about just Omar and supporting him, and Ander could barely even do that. So instead, he had decided he would distance himself for fear of breaking down and blurting it all out, and made a vow to never do what Polo did to him. 

Like a magnet, Ander walked until his feet stopped just a few inches from the shrub and leaned down, absently pulling at one of the stems. 

“Ander? What are you doing to my buddleias?”

Once his brain finally caught up with his actions, he already had three stems in hand, roots and all. He sheepishly stood up and ducked his head, avoiding his mother’s disapproving look. 

“I, uh...Omar mentioned how much he loved these and I just thought....” he trailed off, suddenly feeling insecure and childish. “I’m sorry, I ruined your garden mama…”

His mother rolled her eyes fondly and let out a soft sigh. 

“It’s a very lovely idea, I’m sure he will love them. Just, try not to pull anymore out, okay? I’ll grab my scissors and we’ll make a nice bouquet, just like old times, yeah? I have the perfect vase we can use...”

They both shared a soft smile and got to work putting together an arrangement of flowers from the garden for Omar. It was a small but welcome distraction from the pit in his stomach that had been there since the night before. He felt giddy even just thinking about the small gesture for Omar. He knew it wasn’t much, and wasn’t going to solve anything, but Omar loved romantic things like this, and he definitely wanted to be on his good side.

***

As the sun set and the sky turned from a yellowish-orange to black, Omar still hadn’t returned home yet and Ander was beginning to panic. He sat at the kitchen island and stared at the front door, his leg bouncing anxiously, willing the door to open and for Omar to walk in at any moment. He didn’t dare go upstairs, not wanting to miss a second of Omar coming home and assessing his mood, hoping to be able to predict how the rest of the night would go. He finally caved and sent him a quick text to make sure he was okay and ask when he would be coming home (or _if,_ he thought bitterly). 

God, he wanted a drink so badly. He glanced over towards the fridge, but thought better of it. After the other night, it probably wasn’t the best idea to be drinking, especially when Omar got home. 

His mother had waited around downstairs with him, hovering and glancing at the door every so often as she cleaned up from dinner. 

“Any word from Omar?” 

Ander shook his head disheartenedly and let out a groan, burying his head in his hands. 

“God, I’m such an asshole. He is probably already moving into a new place right now and is going to make me mail him his things so he never has to see me again.”

“Does that really sound like something Omar would do?” she challenged. 

Ander rolled his eyes, knowing he’s being dramatic but unable to help himself from expecting the worst. 

“Just talk to him, Ander. I’m sure you two can work through this.”

He snorted at his mother’s suggestion, if only it was that easy. He thought back to the night before, coming down stairs to see Omar and his mother whispering, about him probably, and he wonders what all Omar has told his mother about their relationship. The two had quickly developed a bond that Ander had always been fond of until now, feeling slightly betrayed by them both for talking behind his back. He hates keeping this from Omar, and his mother. And most of all, Guzman. Three of the most important people in his life, and he’s been lying to them all. Keeping this secret has been eating him up inside almost as much as just knowing the truth. He felt sick to his stomach again. 

“You know, you can talk to me about whatever it is, too. You are my son and I hate seeing you like this...”

Ander took a shaky breath and let his mind play with the idea of giving in, telling her everything. She’s his mother, she’s obligated to love him no matter how shitty of a person he is, no matter what horrible secrets he’s kept. He feels as though his whole body is shaking as he contemplates, the temptation of relief almost enough to give in. But she’s also the school principal, if he told her, she’d have to report it. Then he’d also be responsible for one of his best friends going to prison, and Guzman would know that he knew everything.

Before his mind could go further down the rabbit hole of guilt, he felt his mother’s touch on his shoulder, softly trying to comfort him.

“Well, if you ever want to talk, I’ll be here to listen.”

Ander nodded his head softly and thanked her. He glanced back towards the front door, his shoulders slumping down in disappointment as the door remained locked. 

“What do you say we watch a movie, hm? I’ll even let you pick...” she enticed, wiggling her eyebrows up and down. 

Ander smiled at her fondly, knowing she is only trying to help ease his stress. He bites his lip as he considers what movie he wants to watch, finally deciding on Indiana Jones, a classic and one of his favorites. Although Omar insists it’s only a favorite because of his crush on Harrison Ford, which, _true_. But he also likes the story and the action. And there’s very little romance for him to have to deal with right now, which was ideal. 

His mother agrees and tells him to put it on while she makes popcorn. As Ander walks towards the couch, he immediately spots Omar’s pillow, still there from the night before. He felt a tightness in his chest as he slowly picked it up, brushing the material with his thumb. He is suddenly struck with how much he missed him. How much he missed them. He wasn’t sure at this point if they’d ever go back to normal. What if they never recover from this? The secrets or the truth. Ander felt his knees go weak and let himself fall back onto the couch. He slowly brought his legs to his chest and clutched the pillow tightly, burying his nose and inhaling deeply. 

He stayed like that even after his mother came over with the popcorn bowl and pressed play. He couldn’t bring himself to focus on anything other than Omar and what he could try to do to make things better. Ander’s not sure if he would be able to survive through all this shit if Omar were to break up with him. 

Despite the awful things that his father said and did to him, Omar moving in was supposed to be a blessing in disguise; a gift, even, compared to the torturous ten minutes a day they had to endure for the entire summer. This was supposed to be the opportunity for them to spend unlimited time with each other learning all they can, making love and making memories. Instead, it had been a nightmare.

Not only did Ander have to hide this secret and guilt at school and in front of all his friends, he had to hide it in his own bedroom as well. This charade was never ending, and he knew the stress was causing him to behave unfairly towards his loved ones. He was just so exhausted from it all. 

A soft shake on his shoulder brought him to, his eyes just barely opening for long enough to see a flash of the movie credits scrolling on the screen. His eyes closing again of their own accord. Another light shake and the soft sound of someone calling his name, followed by a hand slowly running through his hair caused Ander to let out a pleased hum, his eyes still closed. 

“Ander, wake up.”

This time he heard the voice loud and clear. Omar was home. Ander blinked opened his eyes to find him standing only a foot away, he looked tired and maybe even a bit concerned. Confused, Ander lifted his head and that’s when he realized he had fallen asleep on the couch, clutching Omar’s pillow to his chest like a small child. Ander cleared his throat and slowly sat up, still feeling a bit disoriented. 

“You came back...?” 

It came out more of a question rather than a statement.

“Of course, silly.” Omar snorted. 

Ander shrugged and tried to stand up, a sudden rush of dizziness clouding his head as his knees threatened to give out. He felt Omar’s strong hands steady him on his waist until the spots cleared from his vision. Ander felt his heart skip a beat at the contact.

“Are you okay? Have you been drinking…”

Ander scoffed, breaking free from Omar’s grasp and headed for the kitchen for some water.

“No, I haven’t. I just got lightheaded for a moment, Omar. For fuck’s sake, I’m not drunk.” 

Omar’s words stung. He remembered their conversation from the night before, how Omar had told him he’d been drinking too much lately. It wasn’t that he was wrong either, Ander knew that, but it still hurt. 

“What’s this?” 

Ander looked up from his glass of water to see Omar walking over to the flowers he had picked from the garden. Ander bit his lip as he waited for Omar’s reaction. Omar looked at the arrangement curiously, turning it to see all the angles and leaning in to smell the flowers.

“Are these from the garden?”

Ander nodded his head, “Yeah, do you like them?”

Ander held his breath, trying to decipher Omar’s every move, trying to read his mind. 

“They’re beautiful.”

But Omar looked to him blankly, just the slight ghost of a smile, one only Ander could see, like he was trying to hold it in. Like he was holding back. The realization upset him. Omar was probably trying to find a way to let him down easy, tell him it’s over. Ander couldn’t help himself, the words out of his mouth before he could think better of it.

“I’m sure they’ll look nice in your new place...”

He was challenging him, trying to gauge his reaction and see if he had found a new place already. He watched Omar’s face turn cold, his stomach sinking.

“Yeah, I know just the spot I’ll put them too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank y'all for your patience with me! I have certainly learned my lesson to not post two ongoing stories. 
> 
> Although this chapter was initially "complete" long ago, it went from just barely 1,000 words to almost 5,000 words during my revisions over the past week or two (whoops). 
> 
> Also I did some very brief research on flowers that grew in Spain and looked for something that had symbolism that tied in with the story (although I have no idea how common they actually are in Spain). But the Buddleia flower represents _rebirth, resurrection and new beginnings._


	3. Part Two: Love is the Death of Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Ander felt as if someone was squeezing his heart from inside his chest, causing it to bleed out and leaving him with an emptiness instead. He closed his eyes and laid back on the bed with a thud. His chest heaved painfully and he knew he had finally hit rock bottom. It was only a matter of time, really._

### Chapter One

The metallic taste of blood on his tongue alerts Ander to the fact that he had been biting down a bit too hard on the inside of his cheek in an attempt to prevent himself from reacting to Omar’s words. 

_Omar is leaving._

He’s moving out and moving on and Ander doesn’t know whether he wants to cry, scream, beg, laugh, or punch something. So instead, he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek and hoped to god that he could hold himself together. 

It was a stand-off. Both him and Omar stood in the kitchen and stared at each other for what felt like hours. Both of them trying to mask their feelings and waiting for the other to crack, to admit that they were heartbroken. 

Ander was the first to look away in an attempt to hide the distress that was quickly overcoming him. He felt ashamed. He pushed Omar to do this and now he felt even more miserable than before. He stared down at his feet in deafening silence, Omar’s exasperated sigh finally breaking the tension. 

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna jump in the shower…” Omar mumbled, not waiting for Ander to respond before disappearing upstairs.

It wasn’t until Ander could hear the shower faucet turn on that he was able to release the breath he’d been holding, every ounce of emotion he had left in him almost coming out along with it.

_Omar is leaving._

He forced himself to repeat it over and over in his head. Even though he knows that none of this would have ever happened if Polo hadn’t told him that damning secret, Ander had no one to blame but himself for Omar leaving. 

_He_ was the one who couldn’t handle the stress. 

_He_ was the one who pushed everyone away. 

_He_ was the one who chose to bind his loyalty to the wrong person. 

_He_ was the coward. He was worse than Polo for this, deliberately choosing to hurt the people he loved most rather than face the truth.

_Omar is leaving_ , and Ander hates himself for it.

***

Ander didn’t quite know what to do with himself. Omar would be out of the shower any moment now. Did he want Ander to be waiting in their room to talk more? Or did he want space and privacy? While Ander seemed to have lost himself over the past few months, he thinks he may have also lost his ability to read Omar as well. 

He wondered for the hundredth time how he could have let things get to this point. How he had become this person that Omar no longer wanted anything to do with. How he became someone he was ashamed of. 

Ander began pacing between the kitchen and living room while he tried to figure out what Omar would want while tugging lightly on his bottom lip, the sharp pain from where he cut open the inside of his cheek still raw, but he liked feeling the spike of pain jolt through him. He was lost in thought until he heard the familiar creaking of the pipes upstairs, indicating the shower was turning off. His feet suddenly felt heavy. 

While Ander typically considered himself a realist, when his eyes fell upon Omar’s pillow still laying where he had discarded it back on the couch, he decided to take an optimistic risk. He grabbed Omar's pillow and slowly made his way upstairs. He hoped that maybe Omar would sleep next to him one last time, if not because he wanted to, then simply out of convenience.

He slowly opened the door and silently walked in. Omar looked up at him through the mirror as he rubbed the towel against his wet hair, but said nothing. He wore one of Ander’s old tennis tournament shirts that he often borrowed, which gave Ander just the slightest amount of hope. Ander stopped awkwardly by the foot of the bed, unsure if he should speak first or not, even though he hadn’t the slightest clue as to what he would even say. 

After another moment, Omar tossed the towel down and picked up his comb. The room was silent except for the rhythmic sound of the comb running through Omar’s thick black hair. Ander looked down at his feet, clutching the pillow he still held to his chest for comfort and tried to find the right words. 

He flinched as he heard the comb slam down on the dresser along with a scoff as Omar slowly turned away from the mirror to look at Ander, his arms crossed against his chest. He bit his lip and blinked his eyes rapidly before speaking.

“You know, we were much better at talking to each other when we only had ten minutes a day than we do now living in the same fucking room. How’s that for irony?” He scoffed.

Ander closed his eyes in shame, only opening them again as he heard Omar take a deep breath before speaking again, his voice calmer now, sadder.

“What happened to the guy who had sacrificed his entire summer just to get ten minutes alone with me, huh? Now I can barely even get you to look at me for ten minutes...” He mumbled, almost to himself.

There was no denying the pain and bitterness in Omar’s voice. His words were like a punch to the gut. If only he knew what kind of sacrifices Ander was making for him now. If only Ander could make him see... 

“Omar, that’s not—” he began, but Omar stuck a hand up to silence him, his face determined.

“No. I’ve given you plenty of chances to speak, now it’s my turn. Ever since I moved in, I’ve done everything I can to not be a burden to you and Azucena, to try and earn my place here. And while you may have opened up your home to me, for which I am eternally grateful, I seemed to have lost you. Or rather, you’ve lost yourself. I’ve been patient and supportive and tried to let you work out whatever the hell it is that’s going on yourself, since clearly you don’t trust me enough to try and let me help you. But I just can’t go on like this. I—” 

Omar stopped for a moment to gather himself, his eyes flickering around the room briefly while he took in a shaky breath, slowly closing the gap between them until he was standing only a few feet away from Ander. Ander felt as though his whole body was on edge. He was scared, he was ashamed, he was heartbroken. 

Omar reached out and softly cupped his cheek.

“I don’t want to lose you.” He whispered as he softly stroked Ander’s cheekbone. “Even when it meant I had to get a job working late nights so I could give you the space you need. Even when it meant putting up with your mood swings and turning a blind eye to your newfound drinking habits. And even when it means that I have to leave yet another home because I’m no longer welcome...I will do it all, because I love you, Ander. But I need to know if you still want this. If you still want me. Because otherwise, I can’t keep making these sacrifices for someone who is no longer willing to talk to me or who doesn’t want the same anymore.”

Ander could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears, and he felt as though he wasn’t hearing properly anymore. Because Omar couldn’t possibly still love him after all of this. And if he did, well, he wouldn’t for much longer, Ander was certain of it. And yet, he still couldn’t contain the hope that sparked inside, screaming at him to do whatever it takes to get Omar back. The lump in his throat grew larger by the second. Omar’s eyes bore into his, pleading for him to say something. 

“Of course I still want you. Please believe me when I tell you I’m trying...” Ander whispered, his voice thick with emotion and desperate for Omar to believe him, but struggling to come up with an explanation.

He watched as Omar’s eyes hardened and his jaw clenched. 

“Try harder then, or you will lose me. For good.”

Omar’s hand fell harshly from his cheek. His eyes dropped and landed on his pillow for a moment before he reached forward and snatched it from Ander’s hands. The movement startled him. Omar has never used any kind of force with him before, at least not any that wasn’t asked (or sometimes begged) for. 

As Omar turned and made his way to the door, Ander made himself watch as he walked away from him for the second time, telling himself that he deserves this pain he feels. 

***

Ander’s ears rang in the silence of the room while his heart threatened to rip out of his chest. His brain waged a war inside of him. One side telling him he deserved this; that no one would love him if he were to reveal the truth. That he deserved to be alone. The other side pleaded that this was a mistake; that Omar does love him despite all the shitty things he’s done, and maybe he can still fix it. Maybe he could keep Omar. 

Ander felt nauseous, like he was going to throw up. He just barely registered the edge of the bed against the back of his knees before collapsing down onto it. 

He turned Omar’s words over and over in his head, thinking about all the things Omar has done for him over the past few months while Ander was being a complete dick. While he had spat out insults and aggravation at Omar’s concern for him, trying to avoid talking about what was really wrong, Omar was going through his own struggles and making his own sacrifices for their relationship, all while taking the brunt end of Ander’s anger and stress.

Ander tried to tell himself he didn’t _ask_ for Omar to make those sacrifices, but even he knew that it was him who was in the wrong. Omar wouldn’t have had to do any of those things if not for Ander’s inability to process the trauma he was going through, and how he treated his loved ones because of it. 

He tried to tell himself he was making sacrifices too. That he was doing it for them, but he didn’t believe that either anymore. 

Because his sacrifices were selfish. They didn’t benefit anyone, except maybe Polo, who had been the devil in his ear for so long now. He believed he was making sacrifices for Guzman’s benefit too, at first. He didn’t want Guzman to be all alone, friendless because his two best friends ended up being monsters. It was easier for him to continue hating a man he already hated for his sister’s death rather than feel the betrayal and devastation of knowing it was one of your own best friends who was responsible instead. But now all Ander could think about was the even worse betrayal of finding out it was one of your best friends and having him stand by your side and pretend nothing happened. All the while, your other best friend knowing the truth, pretending along with him.

He thought his sacrifice, his secrecy, was protecting his loved ones. But in hindsight, he was only trying to protect himself. He didn’t want to know what they would think of him. He didn’t want to see the disgust in their eyes as they realized he’s been knowingly sitting next to, going to parties with, and allowing Marina’s killer to walk free right next to her brother, while her lover took the fall for something he didn’t do. 

He was selfish and terrified. And it wasn’t just him who was paying the price. It was Omar, Guzman, and his mother who all shared the burden of Ander’s choices. He thought he was doing what was best for everyone else, but how was this any better? Ander had felt like shit every second of every day since Polo told him what he had done.

He thought of Omar again, taking a shitty night job at a club just to get away from Ander’s spiteful moods. How he bit his tongue to avoid fights even though he had every right to call Ander out on his drinking and tactlessness. How he felt like he no longer had a home here. That was what hurt the most. After being thrown out by his own family, Omar no longer felt like he was welcome even around Ander. 

He didn’t want Omar to try and find a new home. He belonged here, with him. They were supposed to be each other’s family now. He had told Omar as much, and then he promptly treated him like shit.

Ander felt as if someone was squeezing his heart from inside his chest, causing it to bleed out and leaving him with an emptiness instead. He closed his eyes and laid back on the bed with a thud. His chest heaved painfully and he knew he had finally hit rock bottom. It was only a matter of time, really.

_“I don’t want to lose you.”_

Omar’s words came to him softly, slowly getting louder and louder until they began to drown out all his fears.

_“I will do it all, because love you, Ander.”_

_“Try harder, or you will lose me. For good.”_

And suddenly Ander sat up. 

He’s been overthinking everything for months, trying to think of every possible outcome if he were to tell Omar the truth. He had thought of every way in which Omar would leave him, the horrible things he would think of him, and had convinced himself that Omar leaving him like this was better than him knowing the truth. He never even allowed himself to think of the possibility of Omar accepting him, staying with him, loving him despite it all. 

He stood up and began pacing around his room and tried to control his rapid breathing. He felt desperate, wild. Certainly once the truth is out, he’ll lose Guzman for good, but that doesn’t mean he has to lose Omar, too. All he knew was that if there was a possibility of Omar staying, he wanted to try. He didn’t let himself think more than that as he walked out of his bedroom with determination and his bleeding heart on his sleeve, and slowly made his way downstairs to the living room.

***

His heartbeat rang loudly in his ears. He’s not even certain he’s breathing anymore as he slowly descended the final steps. He only thinks of Omar. 

The downstairs is silent. A soft yellow glow of the lamp is the only thing he can see from around the corner. His feet slowly carry him closer until he can see Omar’s silhouette on the edge of the couch, bent over with his elbows resting on his knees and his face buried in his hands. Immediately Ander feels his stomach drop.

He padded over slowly, hesitating for just a moment at the edge of the couch, waiting to see if Omar would yell at him to go away. When he didn’t move, Ander gently sat down next to him. Both of them were silent for a moment. 

Ander slowly reached over and grabbed Omar’s hand and held it in his lap. He doesn’t resist or pull away, which Ander takes as a good sign. He watched Omar’s face closely as he began to lightly stroke the back of Omar’s hand with his thumb. He can see Omar’s bottom lip tremble.

“Just tell me what I’m doing wrong, Ander. Please...” He whimpered, still not looking at him.

Ander shook his head quickly. Hearing him ask that— thinking that _he’s_ done something wrong— hits Ander like a ton of bricks, knocking the breath out of him. It’s the extra push he needed in deciding once and for all he had to do something; he had to let him in, even if he can’t tell him everything. 

He shifts his leg up onto the couch so his shin is flush against Omar’s thigh and he’s facing Omar directly. Still holding tightly his one hand, he reached up to cup his tear streaked cheek in the other. 

He gently turned Omar’s face toward him, “Nothing, Omar. You haven’t done anything wrong, it’s me. It’s all me,” he pleads. 

Omar just shakes his head in disagreement. Ander couldn’t bear to let Omar think that he’s done something wrong anymore. 

“Hey, I’m serious. Listen to me, okay. I—“ Ander hesitated, the words dying on his tongue. 

_How the hell was he supposed to tell him?_

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed Omar to believe him. When he opened them again, Omar was looking at him with watery eyes, his brows furrowed in confusion, expectant. His face looked tired and worn down. It made Ander’s chest tighten even more.

Ander leaned in and kissed him softly on the corner of his lips, lingering for just a moment. He pulled back just enough to lean his forehead against Omar’s, breathing him in and mustering up all the courage he has left in him. He wants to let Omar in. He needs him to understand the nightmare he’s been trapped in for the past few months.

He’s been on the edge of a breakdown for so long now, but he needed to be careful with his words. He couldn’t let Omar know the whole truth, but he could still let him in enough that hopefully he can see the duress he has been under and Omar would know that he had nothing to do with it. 

Ander struggled to find the right words to speak. The determination he felt just moments ago was starting to deteriorate with fear. He needed Omar closer. Without another word, Ander reached over and lightly tugged at Omar’s leg, the one furthest from him, and silently directed his body so they faced one another on the couch. Once Omar turned, Ander maneuvered himself so that his legs hung on top of Omar’s, and he scooted closer until they were almost chest to chest. Omar looked at him with tired and confused eyes, but wrapped his arms around Ander’s waist, nonetheless. 

The action gave Ander just a hint of a smile, as the memory of one of his favorite days immediately flashed across his vision: the first time they had made love and the first time Ander told Omar that he loved him. They had sat just like this on Ander’s bed in his old bedroom, crazy about each other and risking it all just for small moments like this. 

Even though Omar didn’t say it back at the time, Ander remembered feeling _so loved_ and so _in love_ that he might explode. He didn’t care that Omar’s parents would never accept them. He didn’t care that they were trying to arrange a marriage for him. He knew in his gut that the boy in his arms loved him, and he loved him too, and that was enough.

That was the feeling he was chasing. Back when everything was still complicated and messy, but the only thing that mattered was how they felt about each other.

That was what Ander wanted to do again; what he wished he had done from the start of this whole mess. His heart panged with longing for that feeling again, and he knew what he needed to do if he ever wanted the chance to get back to that.

“I thought I was doing the right thing.” He started, his voice low with shame and regret. “Or at least I had convinced myself it was right. But, how could the right thing feel so terrible? How could it be right if it’s causing so much pain? How could it make me lose you? I can’t do it anymore, Omar. I don’t want to lose you either.” 

Ander felt Omar’s hands dip underneath his t-shirt, making contact with his skin as he softly rubbed at his sides, encouraging him to continue. 

“I know I’ve been taking all my anger and frustrations out on you and that’s not fair of me to do. Forgive me, please. Honestly you’re the only thing that’s been keeping me from completely losing my mind...” He admitted.

Omar looked at him skeptically, like he didn’t believe him. It made Ander feel even worse. But he didn’t protest, so Ander kept going. He needed to get it out before he could talk himself out of it. 

“I know something,” He blurted, “a-a- secret—” Ander swallowed, his voice shaking with fear, “something that I stupidly thought would maybe resolve itself, or that I could pretend didn’t happen. But it did happen. And I can’t just forget what I know...believe me, I’ve tried...” 

Ander thought back to all the nights he had drank himself to sleep in an attempt to fight off his demons while Omar was at work. How he had to secretly dispose of all the empty bottles from his bedroom without anyone seeing or finding them in the trash. He thought about the other night when he finally took it too far, the demons were too powerful and in a desperate attempt to try to drown them out, he ended up collapsing at the club in front of everyone. 

Guzman had confronted him about Polo at Cayetana’s fake charity event a few nights before, and that moment had been haunting him. Ander wanted so badly to confess everything, but Polo’s words taunted him: _“You've been lying to him for months. He'll never forgive you. You'll be dead to him. He'll have no one."_

He knew Polo was right, and Ander thought that _he_ deserved to feel this misery rather than Guzman, once he figured out his two best friends were deceiving him. It had been the lowest point in his entire life. He remembered all of the horrible, disgusting things he thought of himself. How much he hated himself. He felt like a shell of a person, rotting from the inside out— poisoned with deception and cowardice. 

And here Omar was— his lifeline, his beacon of light— trying to suck the poison out of him like a snake bite. Ander had been resistant, determined to wallow alone in his own misery, not realizing he was dragging Omar into the darkness along with him. It was all too much. Ander didn’t want to be poisonous anymore. 

“It’s...it’s been eating me up inside, trying to live with this. And I— I can’t anymore, please...I can’t,” He cried out, no longer able to hide the desperation in his voice.

Suddenly it was as if all the air had left the room. Ander couldn’t breathe anymore. He began to panic. He glanced around the room, making sure the walls weren’t caving in on him as his chest heaved rapidly. He could see Omar’s mouth moving, but he could barely hear him over the sound of his own heart beating. 

“Ander! Hey! Look at me. Breathe, okay? Breathe. It’s okay. You’re okay. Shh…”

Omar held his face in his hands, grounding him as he slowly tried to steady his breathing. Ander focused on his face as best as he could, blinking hard to release the built up tears so he could look into Omar’s eyes. Time stopped for a moment, and all he could see was the love and concern on Omar’s face, his light shining again, pointing him towards an escape. 

Relief began to wash over him, chasing away the fear as he focused on the warmth of Omar’s hands cradling his face, stroking his cheek. As his breathing slowly began to stabilize, he leaned forward to bury his face in Omar’s neck, wrapping his arms around his back. Exhausted with emotion, he felt the energy drain from him, taking with it all the fight he had left in him for holding onto this secret.

“I just don’t know what to do anymore, Omar. I don’t know how to make things right...” He whimpered. 

Omar immediately pulled Ander in tighter, rubbing at his back and trailing a hand into his curls, softly scratching his head just like he knows Ander loves. 

“Baby, what are you talking about? What secret? What is it?” He whispered into his hair.

When Ander didn’t respond, Omar tried to pull back to look him in the eyes, but Ander’s grip on him was firm. He shook his head, his nose brushing back and forth against Omar’s neck. It was all coming out now: the guilt, the fear, the grief. It all began to pour out of Ander like the perfect storm. His whole body began to shake again, and he had no energy to try and control it.

“Please, Ander, you’re scaring me...” 

But there was no going back now. Ander bit down on his lip to try and keep it from quivering as he slowly loosened his hold around Omar’s waist, just enough so he could look at him. He wanted one last look before he said what he was going to say. One last moment to savor this Omar before he knew the horrible secret Ander had been holding onto for months and would be disgusted by him. He held his breath, and with tears in his eyes, Ander muttered his ugly confession.

“I— I know who really killed Marina. It wasn’t Nano...” 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I really appreciate the support for this story and hope my slow updates don't discourage you. As much as I love writing this storyline, it is a bit emotionally draining to do so. I have just two more chapters planned after this one and hope you continue to read along and share your thoughts with me.
> 
> xx


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